


Body Heat

by Macx



Series: Gray Areas [18]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snakes are not made for cold temperatures. Demons who turn into snakes, too. Aziraphale needs to thaw his demon before Crowley becomes a block of ice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Heat

The sky was dark and foreboding, the clouds racing across the black and dark grey sea. The violent wind pushed them ahead faster and faster, and rain fell like sheets, drowning the streets. Everywhere, sewers gurgled, trying to manage the gallons of water, and some basements were flooded. An underground line had to be closed down due to water damage. Traffic had nearly died down by now and everyone who really, really didn't have to be outside wasn't any more.

Thunder rumbled ominously through the twilight darkness, sometimes lightning flashes accompanied the noise the weather made.

Sitting in the attic, underneath the huge windows, Aziraphale gazed out over the flooded streets and drowning gardens of the neighbourhood. Another thunder clash rattled the windows and he sank deeper into the warm nest of blankets, cushions and a very comfy mattress. A small reading lamp was on, spreading a warm glow that tried to pierce the twilight of the room.

The rain beat harder against the panes, almost like hail but not quite yet, and the angel could feel the worsening weather with every sense. Soon there would be snow accompanying the rain.

The drumming noise of large drops splashing on the roof tiles had a strangely lulling effect. He felt quite relaxed, even if some people would probably claim the world was coming to an end outside. Aziraphale knew about Armageddon and it didn't make angels feel cosy and warm.

Bundled up in a much too large sweater and loosely cut pants, he didn't really look the angel part, but neither did the second person in bed look very demonic, though he was a demon.

And at the moment he wasn't much of a person.

Crowley was curled up inside the baggy sweater, sleeping the sleep of the just after having a harrying day.

Aziraphale looked at the small bundle of scales and muscles, the wedge-shaped head hidden under the coils, and he laid a warm hand onto the snake. A few muscles flexed and he smiled more. He stroked the snake soothingly. Whether it was for him or for Crowley, he didn't know. He had been just as shocked by the incident.

Thunder rumbled across the by now black sky and he let the low sound calm him. The rain, if at all possible, increased, as if trying to wash away the damage caused.

It could have been worse, he thought. A lot worse.

The whole mess had started on a very normal day, both of them in St. James Park, feeding the ducks as they usually did, and enjoying the fresh, crisp air. There had been nothing malicious about it, nothing at all.

They had walked back to the bookshop afterwards and Aziraphale had opened it, going about his business, while Crowley had gone about whatever he had had planned for today. The angel hadn't been worried at all; if there was thwarting to be done, he would soon know it anyway.

Crowley hadn't returned by evening.

Crowley had been gone all night.

Crowley had actually been gone for the rest of the week, which had Aziraphale biting his nails by Saturday afternoon. He just knew that something was wrong, that something had happened, and that whatever that something was, he had to help Crowley.

It had taken him two more days to find him.

And in the most unlikeliest place – The British Museum. More precisely, the basement of the British Museum, inside a locked vault that contained, to his horror, holy material.

 

 

//Aziraphale froze, almost literally, when he opened the vault door. He could feel the power of the religious items, even from the entrance, and those powers were wafting all around him.

It was cold in here. Colder than it should be, by law of nature, and he suspected it was the clash of demonic and divine power. Whatever was stored here, it wasn't really very strong, but in the confines of the vault it was a lot more dangerous than outside.

Crowley lay against one wall, arms wrapped around his middle, cowering, curled up, as if he was trying to keep warm. His wings weren't out, his sunglasses had disappeared, and his skin was so incredibly pale... frosty...

Aziraphale knelt down next to a severely hypothermic demon, carefully touching one icy cold shoulder.

"Crowley? Can you hear me, my dear?"

Eyes cracked open a slit, a dull yellow peeking through. There was a whisper of breath that might have been Aziraphale's name, but he wasn't sure.

"I don't know what you did, but I need to get you out of here and warm."

Crowley was rather averse to cold, like most demons were, but he also took cold weather badly. Add to that the way he was barely radiating any demonic power, Aziraphale suspected that whatever had struck him, it had either stunned his powers, leeched them or worse. He had been sitting here for who knew how long, cold, getting colder, and enveloped in divine radiation.

Crowley had a certain resistance to things like that, and that resistance had grown lately, ever since the two of them had become lovers. But the item must have given off a rather strong pulse to incapacitate the demon.

"Crowley?"

"...zira...?"

He ran a warm hand over the glacial skin. "Yes. I need to ask a favour."

"hn?"

"Change."

"no." It was a rather weak protest, but the eyes opened more.

"I need you to change into your serpent form, Crowley. I can't get you out of here otherwise. Please."

"losing myself," was the hoarse reply.

"You won't. I'll be here. I'll guide you back if necessary. Please, trust me, dear. I need you to do this for me."

Aziraphale met the resigned eyes, read the desperation in there, and leaned forward, kissing the blue lips. It was like touching an ice cube.

"Please."

The yellow eyes slid shut and suddenly there was a gathering of power, brief and rough and not really controlled, then Aziraphale looked at a greenish black snake, moving sluggishly.

He picked it up, caressing the smooth scales, feeling the deep cold inside the small body. Crowley curled up around his arm, seeking warmth, and Aziraphale tutted gently.

There was only one place to keep Crowley, to truly give him the warmth he needed, and that was skin against skin, or scales. Opening his coat one-handed, the buttons proving to be difficult, the angel pulled up his sweater and finally clumsily unbuttoned his shirt.

Crowley hissed in confusion, then in absolute relief as he was placed against the furnace that was Aziraphale's body. The angel flinched a little at the cool touch, then quickly bundled up again. Crowley moved a little and Aziraphale thought he heard a warm hissing. He wrapped an arm around his middle to keep the serpent from accidentally slipping deeper, though his belt was an obstacle, and hurried out of the museum, unseen by anyone.

Getting home was haphazard but manageable and when they finally were inside the flat, Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief himself. He shed the coat, then trudged into the bedroom where he changed his outfit with a wave of his hand. Aziraphale had lately done some work with his flat and the attic bedroom had been a fancy of his. Crowley had approved, though probably not to recuperate from such a shock to the system.

The snake remained curled up against his stomach and Aziraphale placed a hand over the snake under his sweater. He stroked over the layers of clothes, feeling the cool muscle of serpent twist a little.

The angel snuggled into his warm bed, both arms securely around his precious burden. Crowley whispered an exhausted hiss and he soothed the snake softly. Aziraphale was overcome with a surge of protectiveness. Crowley looked dead, but since demons were immortal, the fear was insubstantial at best. But he was suffering and Aziraphale hated suffering.//

 

 

Now they were here, hours later, in the middle of one of the worst thunderstorms this year yet, Crowley was still a snake, and Aziraphale was patiently guarding his lover's rest and recuperation. Now and then the sinewy form moved, showing the angel that Crowley was making progress, but he wasn't really fully aware of where he was and with whom. Well, maybe he was aware with whom. Aziraphale's aura was unmistakable.

"Crowley, dear?" he asked softly when the movement became more pronounced.

"Hmnf?" the demon made sleepily.

"Are you awake?"

He was rewarded by a questioning hiss. The coils of smooth muscle unwound and Aziraphale had to hold back a giggle as they slid over his naked skin. A dark head emerged from the too loose sweater neck and after a little scenting, the forked tongue testing the air, Crowley smoothly wrapped himself around Aziraphale's neck like a boa. His head rubbed against the angel's cheek and Aziraphale reached up, brushing two fingers over the smooth head.

"Hello," he whispered.

His demon was beautiful. Aziraphale hadn't really looked at Crowley in snake form, and he found him beautiful to look at. The scales were a dark green, almost black, with a few lighter areas. The head was flat, wedge-shaped, the eyes a strong yellowish golden and orange. The black slit of the pupil contrasted sharply. He was about the length of Aziraphale's arm, sinewy and lithe as was expected of snakes, and his scales shone with the depth of the colour, a clear indication that he was recovering.

"What happened?" Crowley asked. Talking was no great difficulty for a snake that was a demon.

"You were nearly frozen stiff when I found you, my dear." Aziraphale continued his petting, stroking down the scaly side. "I think you were struck by some kind of religious object in that vault. How did you get in there? What were doing there in the first place?"

Crowley sighed. It was more of a hiss. "I had heard rumours. About something demonic. Trapped in an artefact in the museum. I went to... well... check. It wasn't demonic at all. It was a hoax. Thing is, well..." He sounded embarrassed. "Thing is, I got struck by the holy crap they store in that vault. I must have triggered it. I don't know what happened next."

Aziraphale let him curl around his wrist, then slide down his arm to nestled into the warmth of the comforter and the angel's body. He gave him a soft smile, loving and gentle and very much reassuring.

"I'll go check on it," the angel promised. "I'm just glad I found you. You were gone for almost the whole week."

The snake shuddered and curled up closer. Aziraphale gathered the bundle of miserable demon to him.

"It felt like centuries," Crowley whispered.

"Your power levels were very, very low, my dear. You still need to recuperate."

"Can't change," was the barely above whisper reply.

"You don't have to."

Crowley gave another reptilian sigh-hiss. He nosed his way along the hem of the sweater, then carefully slid underneath, seeking more warmth. He hesitated just a bit, but when the angel stroked along the long spine, he quickly sought his place on Aziraphale's belly.

The angel smiled as the drained and exhausted demon curled up once more.

"Go back to sleep. Everything's okay," he whispered.

Crowley mumbled again, snuggling closer. Aziraphale sent calming waves. His demon slipped into sleep again.

Blue eyes drifted from his sleeping lover to the rain-battered window once more, then he gave the book he had been reading all his attention.

 

*

 

Crowley woke in the early morning hours when the thunder storm had passed mostly over the land, when it was just non-stop rain beating against the window pane, and when the light of dawn managed to stab through the clouds. It wasn't a real sunrise, not with the sun behind the clouds, but the morning struggled to separate itself from the night.

The demon didn't struggle for anything, least of all separation from the wonderful warmth he was currently wrapped up in. All of him was curled up against a familiar form, and he felt like... heaven.

Yes, he mused with a faint smile. This was heaven. Not some lame-assed, ever-happy paradise with no decent food, music or other entertainment. Heaven was with Aziraphale. Being close to him, touching him, sensing the angel all around him.

Gentle fingers ran over his scales and he smiled, making a pleased little noise.

"How do you feel, dear?" Aziraphale whispered.

"Sleepy," Crowley mumbled and turned to look at the man with him in bed.

Actually, he as also exhausted and drained. Mostly drained.

Bloody divine whatnot.

The fingers were soothing, so calming and gentle, and he almost purred. Aziraphale chuckled and moved a little, making Crowley protest faintly.

"Not going anywhere, my dear. Just let me get more comfortable."

And not much later he was lying on the chest of the man he loved, listened to the steady beat of his angel's heart, hearing him breathe. All extremely calming sensations, coupled with his warmth and smell and touch.

He drifted off again, not fighting his body's need to get rid of so much divine power hitting him at such close quarters.

 

* * *

 

Crowley wasn't recuperating at a very fast pace. The divine power had really hurt him and being cooped up in such cold and tight quarters with no powers had been detrimental to his health. The demon stayed in snake form, close to Aziraphale's much warmer body, wherever the angel went. Aziraphale had gone so far to miracle a pouch into existence that he could carry around with the recovering snake close to his side. Whenever he was in the bookshop, he placed Crowley into a basket with warm blankets. The basket was under the counter.

Crowley didn't argue much about being kept like a pet, mostly because he was too sick and easily exhausted after a rant.

Sleeping with a snake was... slightly different but not bad. Aziraphale took care not to roll over at night, and since he wasn't as used to sleeping as Crowley was, he stayed awake after the first awkward near-roll onto the groggy demon.

Getting Crowley back into his human shape required a lot more patience, though. With his low energy levels it was a delicate manoeuvre at best, and after the first mistrial, Crowley had crawled under he bed cover and not come out for the rest of the day.

Snakes could sulk.

Snakes could pout.

And snakes could really get across the lost and alone puppy dog look if they wanted to.

"It's okay," Aziraphale told his lover, stroking over the flat head. "It's okay. You'll have to recover completely, then it'll work."

A desolate hiss was the answer.

The angel gathered the snake into his arms, felt the muscular body curl around his forearm, and Crowley nosed against his warm neck.

"I hate this," he whisper-hissed.

"I know, dear, I know. Give it time. There's no rush."

A low mutter was the answer, then Crowley curled over his shoulders once more, anchoring himself with his tail around Aziraphale's neck. The angel smiled and petted his lover, then walked off into the kitchen to make himself some tea.

It wasn't bad to have Crowley as a snake, though it took some getting used to. At least he didn't swallow mice, either dead or alive. Or any other vermin, rodent or birds. He liked sandwiches, hamburgers and steaks – well-done, not bloody, thankyouverymuch. The one time Aziraphale had asked him about his preferences – mice, birds, whatever – he had received a very offended look.

"Mice?" Crowley had exclaimed. "You would feed me mice, angel?"

"Well..." The angel had blushed a little. "You're a snake and if you really need them to survive..."

"First of all, I'm a demon. I just look like a snake at the moment, okay? And second, demons, as well as angels, don't really need food. We just indulge. Don't look like that, it's indulging, not necessity, right? And third, even if I really have to feed, it wouldn't be nice!" A sly look at crossed the reptilian features. "I wouldn't have thought it in you to feed me His creatures, my angel."

The blush had deepened. "Well... I wouldn't let you starve," had been the muttered reply.

Crowley had slithered up his arm to rest his head in his favourite position: against the angel's neck. "No mice," he had only said.

So no mice for the snake. No furry or feathery things of any kind, at least when they weren't readily presented in a bun with lettuce or whatnot. Crowley even managed to drink tea, though the first mug had shattered under the muscle power of the snake and the embarrassed demon had been dabbed dry by a very worried Aziraphale.

 

*

 

Crowley was currently curled up in Aziraphale's lap, head buried in his coils, but still able to watch TV. Aziraphale now and then stroked over the smooth scales, running a finger along the spine, and Crowley could have purred from the attention. For all the trouble it was to be a snake, he enjoyed it now and then. Like right at the moment, with his angel, feeling the heat of the celestial body, enjoying the hum that surrounded them, and delighting in the caresses. His energy levels were almost back to normal and he really, really wanted to stretch his legs, so to speak. He wanted to kiss his angel, hug him, run his hands over the divine body.

He wanted to just hold him.

A snake sigh escaped his lipless mouth and he tightened his coils.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Aziraphale asked.

"Yeah," came the listless reply.

His head was stroked with two fingers and he leaned into it.

"Just wish this was over. I feel... strange," he murmured.

"It will be soon. You feel very powerful to me already. We can try it again tomorrow if you want to?"

Yes, he truly wanted to. He craved his human form.

 

*

 

He spent the night with his angel once more, close to the body heat, sighing with contentment at the warmth. Aziraphale didn't sleep, just read. Crowley watched him from lidless eyes, but he finally dozed off nevertheless. Recuperation did that to a demon.

 

* * *

 

Crowley lay on the floor, visibly exhausted, his breath shallow, a small sheen of sweat covering the naked body. Aziraphale was at his side in no time, wrapping a blanket around him. He held his demon, cooed gently, stroking over the trembling form. Crowley's muscles were either locking up or twitching erratically.

The change hadn't been as fluid as he remembered it. He had seen Crowley change shape once or twice in their shared history, but like Crowley had said, there was always the danger of losing oneself. Unable to remember what a human form looked like, felt like... and the human form was Crowley favourite. He had worn it for millennia. Brief shape-changes had been one thing throughout that time, prolonged ones...

"Have to work on that," the demon gasped, curling into Aziraphale's hold. "That won't do."

The angel smiled. "You did fine."

"It was like a bloody nightmare!"

"You did fine," he repeated. "You're yourself again."

A soft sigh was the answer and he pressed a kiss onto the tousled, black head. Crowley closed his eyes, working on his breathing, and relaxed into the hold the angel had on him. Aziraphale opened his wings with a soft rustle and enveloped them both in the warm, feathery blanket. He knew how much the demon loved the whiteness, the softness, and it helped him relax even more.

"Dear?" he whispered after a long while.

"Hmpf?"

"You want to get to bed?"

"Hmpf."

Aziraphale smiled tenderly and ran his fingers through the black hair. "It's more comfortable."

"You're comfortable," Crowley mumbled, snuggling closer to him, head on Aziraphale's lap, eyes till closed, arms around the angel.

The tolerant smile grew, suffused with warmth.

So they stayed. Crowley was recovering, Aziraphale was simply caressing him, watching over him.

Things would be fine now. Another day and the demon would be back to his old self. Aziraphale still planned on checking out the item in that storage vault, but it had time. He had more important things to take care of. It wasn't his duty any more. It was just... curiosity. His responsibilities lay with the man in his arms, no one else.


End file.
